


Misha's Kiss

by kams_log



Category: Supernatural, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Cockles, Fluff, M/M, all of the fluff, i am cockles trash, i'm not even sorry, the fic about that one time misha and jensen fake made out, this is that fic, you know the one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-17
Updated: 2015-01-17
Packaged: 2018-03-07 22:10:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3185024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kams_log/pseuds/kams_log
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remember that one time Misha and Jensen had that fake kiss at the spn con? Yeah, I do. This is that fic.</p><p>"It was just a little thing. It was *Misha.* But somehow that just made it worse. So, so much worse. And Jensen was having difficulty breathing.<br/>It took a minute to control himself. He scratched his head, he stared at the floor. He smiled and laughed along with the fans as Misha carried on without him, casting his usual charm and magic over every person in the room like it was nothing. Well, it wasn’t like Misha ever had to try to turn Jensen into a puppy eyed mess these days. It was effortless. It almost made Jensen mad. But one look at Misha’s smile and one hand on his shoulder had Jensen’s mind spinning and nothing made sense again.<br/>It was oblivion. But it was perfect. It was Misha."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Misha's Kiss

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DeanAndHisCas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeanAndHisCas/gifts).



A Cockles Story (about that kiss at the con—you know the one.)

It was just a little thing. It was *Misha.* But somehow that just made it worse. So, so much worse. And Jensen was having difficulty breathing.

It took a minute to control himself. He scratched his head, he stared at the floor. He smiled and laughed along with the fans as Misha carried on without him, casting his usual charm and magic over every person in the room like it was nothing. Well, it wasn’t like Misha ever had to try to turn Jensen into a puppy eyed mess these days. It was effortless. It almost made Jensen mad. But one look at Misha’s smile and one hand on his shoulder had Jensen’s mind spinning and nothing made sense again.

It was oblivion. But it was perfect. It was Misha.

Jensen was able to get control again, and time seemed fluid and unreal. The lights were bright and warm, the stage was never ending and the fans were never more encouraging.

And there was Misha. Misha, with his perfect laugh and perfect eyes and perfect lips—damn. Those lips. Those lips that had pressed against his cheek, warm and soft and gentle against the scruff on his face, and the hands that had cupped his jaw and held him still all the while. Not like he needed to hold him still, but Jensen felt like all the tension left his body, leaving him this awful mess of goo and sap and emotion that Jensen really didn’t need right now.

But that’s when he snapped back to reality—and he was staring at Misha again. And Misha was staring back. Shit. And worse, Jensen had been leaning forward, inches away from Misha’s face. *Double* shit.

Then Misha laughed. A sound kind of like a laugh echoed from Jensen’s lips. Misha’s hand was suddenly on his face and Jensen’s heart skipped a great—and then Misha was pushing his face away and Jensen pretended to laugh. His chest hurt.

But he smiled and laughed, went along with the joke… and suddenly realized. A joke. Jensen could make a joke. Oh, he could *play* this game too.

Jensen looked at Misha, a challenge lighting his eye. Misha stared back at him, his eyes sparkling against the flash of camera phones and overhead lights. There was a twitch of lips, a subtle nod.

It was all Jensen needed to know.

As it turned out, he only needed to try one more time. Misha had been answering a question, and Jensen had been leaning close, practically a breath away from Misha’s cheek. He was so close…

And then Misha’s shoulder snapped, their chests were flush against each other’s, and Misha had a hand between their faces, but God, they were *kissing.* It was like they were sixteen and making out behind the bleachers. Their faces were together, but their lips apart. And heaven help him, Jensen *whined.* Whined like a freaking five year old who had their candy taken away.

He could only hope Misha hadn’t heard a thing. That the stupid pathetic sound had been drowned out by the roar of the screaming fans who were probably just as stunned as Jensen felt.

But just as soon as the sound died on his lips, Misha’s hand slipped down, and lips touched lips. Jensen almost screamed, pressing against Misha as hard as he could, and all too soon it was over. Just as quickly as it started, they separated and Jensen was left alone, breath heavy and chest heaving, lips tingling with what had to be a mistake. Just a slip up, a mistake. Only a mistake.

His heart was pounding as Misha beamed at the fans, like it was the joke of the century. Jensen tried to smile along, but honestly it felt more like a grimace. He wasn’t sure, but the fans were still roaring. So it must have been okay.

God, he’d never hear the end of this from Jared. Not that he needed it. Jensen was never getting over this.

Misha walked back to him, his face glowing and his eyes shining. Jensen leaned in, expecting some sort of jab over the mic, some continuing joke about this entire messed up situation he’d found himself in.

But then Misha leaned in too, his breath hot against Jensen’s ear as he whispered, “To be continued?” And God help him if Jensen didn’t nod like an idiot. And send him to hell, cause when Misha discretely pecked his cheek, his heart thundered.

Jensen grinned like an idiot the rest of the night. 


End file.
